The Potter Twins and the Philospher's Stone [COMPLETED]

IV

Vernon's idea of "hidden" was a dingy hotel on the outskirts of some town. After checking in, Vernon, Petunia and Dudley all squeezed into the lift. Vernon then gave us an evil smile. "Guess you'll have to take the stairs," he smirked. Harry walked off.

I stayed, scowling at him. "Off you go, Sam," he chivvied. I took off towards Harry, screamed "race you!" and ran full pelt up the stairs. When we arrived at the fifth floor, the lift still hadn't arrived; I'd won mine and Harry's race, and also beaten the lift. I flicked my red hair off my face as Vernon stumbled out, muttering about "blasted lifts" and "stupid luggage".

Harry and I shared the couch that night, as Petunia and Vernon squeezed into a queen bed and Dudley into a single. He actually fell out at some point.

In the morning around 11, when we came down for breakfast, the man at the reception called us over. "Have you got a Mr H J Potter and a Mr S S Potter? I got about an 'undred of these letters under me desk."

Vernon turned pink. "We're leaving!" he told us. "Go get the bags!" Harry and I rushed off and returned five minutes later. Petunia had an evil smile on her face and Vernon was grinning.

"They'll never find us this time," they chuckled. We drove for five hours before disembarking onto a rowing boat that Vernon had seemingly arranged to borrow.

Harry and I were made to row the boat for 2 hours before a tiny hut on an island came into view. We carried the luggage in, looking around. There was one bed, one sofa, and five blankets, two threadbare. I betted any money (not that I had any) that Harry and I would be sleeping on the floor, and I proved to be right.

We sat depressedly on the floor for a while, before scouting the hut for the comfiest bit of floor we could find. After, I set a blanket on the wooden floorboards, as Harry and I could easily fit under one.

I fell asleep for a few hours, shivering under the threadbare blanket, before waking up to look at Dudley's watch hanging off the edge of the sofa. It read 23:56, 30/07. I breathed in sharply and nudged Harry awake. "What?" He whispered. "We're nearly 11, Harry," I said excitedly, completely forgetting to be quiet.

"Great, so we get to do the mowing," he replied sarcastically, and we both chuckled. I drew a cake in the dust, squeezing 22 candles on the top. Harry then wrote Happy Birthday Harry and Sam underneath, and we counted down to midnight. "Make a wish," we whispered together, and blew into the dust.